


Only Ever Going to be You or Me, Darling

by kuro49



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Post Beach, paralysed charles misses erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank tries rational thoughts. Moira goes without a fight. And Charles can no longer afford to believe in trust.</p>
<p>Companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/367611">Never Going to be You or Me, Love</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Ever Going to be You or Me, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love the X-Men just as much as I love the Brotherhood.

In the early days of his recovery, Charles Xavier is just a man who has come to the realization that he won’t ever walk again.  
  
There are no correct methods to heal the pain. Because it is everything that he can’t feel that is making him hurt all over and it is although everything he feels is finally beginning to deteriorate him from within. It is a damaging thought, he knows, but he can’t find a care in the world to do something about it.  
  
His eyes are sunken in, brilliant blues now a cloudy storm, or so Moira has said. His hair is limp and careless. There is misery etched into his features, no longer faithful altruism that seeps from his class. He will wear a thick sweater or his favourite cardigan but still he shivers, one that can wrack his bones with a violent shake.  
  
Charles has changed.  
  
And then it comes.  
  
000  
  
It is Moira’s last day at the Westchester mansion before she leaves.  
  
He sees the regret, the pain, the guilt, and even her affection for him but he doesn’t say a thing, he doesn’t mention it for the sake of everything that needs to happen. He only gives her a small token of his appreciation, a thank you before he sends her back to where she belongs.   
  
He can read her mind just as easily as she can place one foot in front of the other. And hearing the soft sound of heels against the tiles breaks his heart far easier than he thinks it could.  
  
It has already been weeks, days since he has fully placed acceptance in front of everything else (the numbed pain, the cool metal, the betrayal, and dare he say the man’s name so loud in his mind: _Erik_.)  
  
Their last supper is in the afternoon of some sort.  
  
And then he will lead her out, like an unaware prisoner to their blind execution.  
  
She doesn’t have to know and now, she never will.  
  
000  
  
He isn’t sure about the others but Hank feels as though he is walking along a tightrope with no sure sight of the end.  
  
He knows holding in a breath and clinging to that thin and narrow rope beneath his feet only prolongs the pain, much like Erik’s absence has obviously caused the heartache in the Professor. But unlike Charles, he is not as altruistic, as believing. He can’t speak for Alex or Sean but he can’t simply give ways and let their pain run free.  
  
Hank really believes he can keep it in, or at least until their wounds have healed into scars but with the way the Professor is making light and casual conversation like this is just another Sunday dinner in the afternoon where the sun is still a little too high, he can’t just swallow his questions like they are a part of the food on his plate.  
  
“Can you pass the pepper, Hank?”  
  
He can’t keep it in.  
  
“Professor?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
Alex catches on but he is too late.  
  
“Please don’t tell me that is a genuine smile.”  
  
He doesn’t say it verbally, he doesn’t even think it because he knows the Professor will know his silent: you won’t ever walk again because of _him_.  
  
And they are all much too calm, or so it seems.  
  
Charles doesn’t skip a beat, his voice is smooth and his tone is easy, “it’s Erik.”   
  
The name brings up feelings. No one interrupts and everyone hears Charles’ voice in their heads: _That’s why I can forgive him, anyone else, I can’t be sure._  
  
There is a genuine belief in the way he murmurs it as a thought. He doesn’t stop smiling but the spark in his eyes has changed, that shine that used to burn in those eyes are now gone. Left behind by a lasting passion that continues to flicker on, never burning out.  
  
Hank bites his lips, gives a stiff nod and finishes his food in silence. Because although there’s shame, there is also a greater part of an inability to understand.  
  
000  
  
Moira follows after Charles, running the conversation at the table through her mind. His kind words, his sweet smile and all the underlying devotion he still feels for Erik. The same way he is a telepath, she is still CIA. She may be human but she isn’t oblivious, or at least not as much as she appears to everyone else.  
  
She knows what he can do and even more so of what he will do, for those who are here, and especially those who aren’t.  
  
It is almost romantic, the way they can easily communicate their minds.   
  
And Moira doesn’t hold anything back.  
  
“Thank you.” She breathes out into the open air. She stands behind him, pushing and the silence of the wheels reels her in to all the blame she should never forget.  
  
“Whatever for?” He sounds serene, like he has finally found his focus. But she knows it is much too late for this. He can joke and smile and make her laugh but something has changed and she knows this is not the same man she has fallen in love with.  
  
“For letting me stay this long.”  
  
All the same, she closes her eyes and leans into the kiss, knowing nothing and anticipating everything he has to offer her.   
  
The sun is warm on her back and the skies are a brilliant blue that day.  
  
And she opens her eyes in a bed she has abandoned for months.  
  
000  
  
“Hank.”  
  
Charles calls out when he is right at the door, the sky outside is already dark and he doesn’t want to keep them but much like how Hank couldn’t keep it in at the dinner table, Charles can’t just let him leave without knowing either.  
  
“I don’t need to be entirely alright, its enough to get by, even without...” this time it is harder to get the name off of his tongue but it comes all the same because this is something he can’t live without, “Erik.”  
  
He glances at the unconscious Moira in the car outside and smiles, bitterly.  
  
“You don’t need to explain yourself, Professor.”  
  
Hank offers a feral smile in return but Charles catches all his well-intended gestures.   
  
He turns to leave, with Alex driving and Sean in the backseat with Moira, Charles is reluctant to see her go but he watches them as they turn down the long winding driveway. In the silence of the empty house that resonates only of himself, he confesses to the ghosts of his ancestors.  
  
“I...” He breathes in the musty air. “...I can’t trust anyone anymore.”  
  
Like Erik is no longer here but he continues to manage to change every part of him. He closes his eyes and his thoughts are vivid, of bright golden sand and blue ocean waves. He thinks he can’t ever forget.  
  
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Erik’s voice echoes in heart and mind. _It’s just that the world can’t be trusted._  
  
That is the last thought that Charles catches before Erik slips on the helmet and everything turns a deafening silence.  
  
Charles breathes out and closes the front door.  
  
And in reality, it is merely a difference in opinion, really.  
  
XXX Kuro


End file.
